


Laugh in the face of sadness

by LuckyMiku64



Category: Gravity Falls, Gravity Falls Au - Fandom, Reverse Falls - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reverse Falls, College Years, Gen, Gravity Falls AU, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Minor Character Death, POV First Person, Reverse Ford - Freeform, Reverse Grunkle Ford, Reverse Stanford, Sociopathy, dark themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-04-01 12:12:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13998090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuckyMiku64/pseuds/LuckyMiku64
Summary: Death is a true tragedy that everyone copes with differently but when you're Stanford Gleeful you tend to look at things differently. Your unique condition will not only change how you interpret the situation but how you feel about it too. That is if you feel anything at all.





	Laugh in the face of sadness

I hear it, I hear it loud a clear but I don’t want to answer it. I’m not strong enough. It’s been a long day if I may make a complete understatement. Every second dragged on for miles upon miles and after putting forth your all there is only one thing left once you give it all away, exhaustion. 

It’s so much easier to just lay here and wither away in my dorm but for the sake of my respected reputation I force myself off the couch and move towards the counter. I glance at my newly purchased home line, a buying decision I am starting to regret. Let’s see, unknown caller, hmm. If this is a prank call I swear. I take the device off its charger and pick up the call. 

“Hello, Stanford Gleeful speaking.”  
I announce as per usual. I lean against the counter and listen. The man on the other line was polite and well-spoken every word was gentle, his voice was unfamiliar and held age to it. I thought it was meant to lead me to a crunch or some ridiculous spiritual movement that I had no interest in but it was for something, much different. This is an event, that requires my full attention. 

I park out front and just stare. I never thought I’d be here at least not until later in life. The rain bounces off my car as if it were hail. There’s a grim tone hidden within the pattern of aqua and a strangeness on how fitting this weather is. Somehow nature was giving off a perfect reflection of misery. I open the door and just stare for a second, I almost don’t want to leave the familiarity of my car, there’s a feeling of comfort and safety here. Meanwhile, the nighttime downpour was just so cold. Okay, deep breath and move. 

I step through the funeral home which lacks any motion and sound. It’s just as dead as most of its guests. All there is, is us. A silent empathic stranger and me, a lonely son. Stanley isn’t even here. With him running off, there’s no way to even let him know what happened for all I know he could be in a different funeral home across the country. So here I am basically acting as the entire heartbroken family. I’m in my best attire, each bit of my outfit is within a shade of ebony and made out of high-quality fabric. Dad would be disappointed that I spent so much but at least I have the excuse that it was for him.  
I can smell the weak flowers as I pass, each scent is far too passive to identify anything and with the large variety they all just fuse into one sadly bland fume. The interior of the resting place has the aesthetic of a grandparent but that’s a result of the decade this was constructed in. There is dirt in the carpets and wallpaper is slowly losing its grip on the building and I believe if they even did hire a cleaner, they should be fired. Luckily for them, body handling is a small market so a ma and pa establishment can stay afloat for quite some time without any more, modern competition. 

“Right this way”  
The elder tells me. We step into a fairly empty room. A raised casket, curtains, two tables by the body box and plants on top of them. I walk over and feel the leaves, plastic. It’s just another disappointment.This whole setup is cheap, even in death, my dad is a penny pincher. I then face him, the corpse. He holds lifeless features with a hint of discomfort but in all honesty, he’s always looked like that, dead or alive. If I didn’t know any better I’d just say he was sleeping.  
I stare at him, I can’t take my eyes off him so much so my head gravitates towards it. It was a powerful image and it’s burning into the back of my skull.  
“Would you like some time?”  
I don’t face the man, I’ll be damned if he sees this, my emotions.  
“...Yes”  
I hear each step they are slow, careful and weak. I can basically taste his tension thinking that somehow a loud step will make this worse. Can see why he works here, he has a big heart and within any other field, he’d get taken advantage of for it. Slowly the door closes with creaks screaming from the hinges. 

Click.  
Finally, I’m alone. I take a deep breath. I need to process all this just for a second. It’s a lot to take in, I never thought it would come to this moment, I never thought he’d leave me. He was always there watching, judging for so long I just accepted that would just always be a factor in my life. I wonder what it’s like to die and what exactly he was he thinking of in his seconds of life. Was it related to me? Stanley? Perhaps the theoretically comforting thought of seeing mom again or it even could have been entirely self-centered. So many questions that a corpse can not answer. 

But this isn’t me. This isn’t what I actually care about. These things are just masks that are stuck due to overwearing. I just need my boundaries to decay just like my father's body. It’s time, time to be honest with myself and just let myself experience what I’m feeling. After some time, it starts on a minuscule scale with a tiny smile then it’s small snickers but it builds, more and more until I burst. I laugh, I am fucking giddy about this. I laugh until my lungs hurt and my joyful sound just becomes breaths. I haven’t smiled or laughed this much in years! You wouldn’t let me, dad. Or more rather, the world didn’t let me but for once in my lifetime life throw me a bone or more rather a corpse. 

This is it, this is me becoming free. I’m breaking the chains forced upon me for the first time in my life! It feels so good! How can I even describe it? Imagine if you will, a tight collar around your neck. You’re born in it, you live in it and it suffocates you constantly. Then by some sort of miracle, it breaks and you can finally breathe. I don't feel an ounce of guilt for doing this, he deserves it. The last seconds of death I couldn’t care less about what he thought I care about what he felt. I hope he felt everything fell in on, crushing him, taste blood and for once he knew what it felt to be worthless, like his son. Well this worthless son is finally free, So thank you, dad. Thank you for dying.


End file.
